What Really Matters
by OneDarkandStormyNight
Summary: There's time when a man realizes what really matters.For Dr.Quest and Race,that time was 47 hours spent under countless feet of tomb bricks,running out of oxygen and wondering what fame meant-and finding the answer in their lives,past,present,and future.


_I honestly have not the slightest idea where this came from. Just popped into my head randomly. It's a testament of my unexplainable love for Dr. Quest, Race, and their brotherly friendship. Hope you enjoy, whoever you are.  
Oh, and for anyone who hasn't seen it yet, I'll be changing my Penname to OneDarkandStormyNight by Friday, the 20th._

**What Really Matters**

There are moments in a man's life when he stops and considers what he has truly accomplished. It's the time when you look back over all your achievements, every pat on the back and congratulation you've ever gotten, and realize that all that doesn't really matter. There's only one thing that really, truly and completely matters at a time like that.

"Benton!"

My voice, hoarse and choked, reverberated off invisible objects in the dark, back to my ears, unanswered.

I cursed a blue streak mentally and forced myself up onto my elbows. Even that simple little movement made my aching head swim even more. Product of years and years of training and personal experience, I immediately assessed the damage.

_Minor concussion, at most…sprained right wrist…twisted left ankle…broken finger on left hand…major cuts and bruises…yeah, that about does it._

Satisfied with my prognosis, I pushed myself to my knees and staggered to a standing position – or stooped position, since the ceiling was now too low to stand upright. I was dizzy for a moment, but it passed quickly as I gripped something in the dark for support.

Now that that was accomplished, a sudden reminding terror rose in my chest.

_Benton!_

He'd been standing just a few feet away from me in the tomb when it'd caved in. Surely he couldn't be that far away…

I cupped my hands around my mouth. "Benton!" My voice was stronger this time, a fact I was proud of. "Benton, answer me!"

Nothing.

I stumbled forward, my hands searching across the ground for my dropped flashlight. Finally, my fingers brushed against the warm plastic; clenching it in my hand, I fumbled for the button.

When the yellowish light flooded the tiny space, I nearly staggered back at the scene.

Rubble lay everywhere. Pieces of destroyed walls and tablets and other dusty archeological stuff stacked up in broken piles; sand and dust reflected the flashlight's beam in a thick cloud. No other light came in–no openings were visible in any place. We were trapped.

But my mind was too preoccupied with the sight in the far corner to register this fact yet.

My own painful problems forgotten, I sprinted across the room and fell to my knees beside the motionless body of Dr. Benton Quest.

My hands shaking more than I'd ever admit to anybody, I felt for a pulse in his neck, relaxing a little when I found one. It was weak, but it was there.

It wouldn't be for long though – not if that thick marble column stayed across his torso like that, pinning him to the ground.

Knowing there was no way he could do it himself, even if he were awake, I fixed my hands under the pillar and lifted it with all the strength I could muster.

My wrist screamed at the strain, and after the column budged a little, I had to rest for a minute.

Benton's shoulders jolted unconsciously as when the whole weight of it was placed on his body again.

It took me three more tries after that, each one harder than the last, before I finally got sick and tired of watching Benton jerk like he was being electrocuted and just threw the darn thing off him completely.

I collapsed, breathing embarrassingly hard, my ears pounding, cradling my hurt wrist.

Benton groaned, his head moving a little as he tried to push up.

"Hey." I got to my knees and started to help him sit, when he let out a choking scream and folded in on himself, his face twisting up in a look of pure agony.

"What's the matter?" I hissed, pulling my hands back like they'd been burned.

He took in a few broken, shuddering breaths and gasped out, "Something…wrong…hurt…" Then he cut off in dry, spasmodic coughs.

"Okay…let me see."

Dreading it, I pulled up his brown T-shirt. I cringed automatically at the ugly black-and-purple coloring across his entire torso. At least two ribs were broken in two and jutting unnaturally up, scraping against the inside of his flesh; who knew how many more were broken or battered, and the way he was panting painfully looked like at least one had scraped or punctured his lung. The color of the skin made me immediately think _internal bleeding_, and it was impossible to tell if any major body parts in his stomach had been badly hurt.

"Benton, you've got broken ribs and one may've injured your lung. Can you say if anything else has been wounded real bad?"

He took another breath and his eyes squinted tightly against the pain.

"C'mon, Benton, talk to me." I tapped his cheek.

With obvious effort, he blinked his eyes open and they focused on me.

"Race…what…happened?"

"Perkins, that's what happened," I told him gruffly. "That no-good mercenary caved-in the whole crypt and who knows how much more of the place trying to steal the mummy's burial gold." (1)

"I" – a cough – "remember. Threw a mild dynamite. Knocked over a supportive pillar."

"Yeah," I replied, adding spitefully under my breath, "Idiot."

Benton let out a hoarse chuckle, and the sound relieved me more than I want to admit. A second later, though, that relief vanished as his head lolled to the side and he moaned softly.

"Hey, hey, Benton." He opened his eyes groggily. "What's hurtin', can you tell me?"

"Chest…" He hissed, his hands moving to rest on his battered ribs.

I winced at the agony I knew he must be feeling. "Anything else?"

"Think stomach's…okay; badly bruised…nothing…severely damaged."

I let out a thankful breath. "Good. Just hold on, okay? I'm gonna look for a way out."

He gave me a stiff nod and I got to my feet.

The light from the lantern was very bright – or at least enough to let me see around the area. I went over to the far wall and ran my hands over it. Nothing. Not even a crack. So I went to the left wall; I had to stoop lower because the ceiling was only four and a half to five feet tall. And there were still no breaks in the rubble. The right wall was not any more reassuring.

Grimly I knelt back down beside the Doc.

"Benton." I shook his shoulder lightly so as not to jar him. "Benton, listen to me."

My heart nearly stopped right then and there. He wasn't waking up; I couldn't hear him breathing anymore.

_God, help me…._

I shook him a little harder. "Benton!"

His chocolate brown eyes opened at peered up at me.

"Gotcha," he murmured, smirking mischievously.

I rolled my eyes dramatically as I relaxed. "That's not funny, Benton."

"I thought it was, Race."

"Shut up." But I smirked back at him anyway. And people wonder where Jonny gets it from. Seriously.

"There's not a…way out, is there?" he almost whispered, his expression growing solemn.

"Looks that way, Doc." I sobered up too. "Think I'm gonna have to bulldoze my way out."

He half-smiled again. "I don't think even…the great Race Bannon…can break through who knows how many feet…of solid rock."

"Losing faith in the Quest Team Superman?" I taunted, using the nickname the kids and Benton had unanimously agreed upon one adventureless day at the Compound when all of us were way too bored for safety.

His eyes shone blearily at the memory. "Never," he croaked as I stood.

And immediately had to grab onto a nearby rock for support as my knees almost gave out from under me, my head swimming.

"Only when he can barely stand," Benton added weakly from below.

"I'm fine," I told him, but it didn't sound reassuring to my own ears, and God knows none of us can pull the wool over Benton Quest's eyes–just ask Jonny; he tries all the time.

He didn't respond, either because he knew that I knew that he could see through me, or because he'd lost consciousness again. That last possibility gave me the strength to stagger to the wall and start tossing rocks.

**TBC…**

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(1) Perkins was the murderous, greedy British treasure-hunter in the original Jonny Quest episode "Treasure of the Temple." He was eaten by crocs (serves him right), but I thought I'd use his name here, since this sounds like something he'd do.

* * *

_It's not half as well-written as it should be, because I didn't really edit it, so apologies for the lower quality. I'm probably gonna add another chapter or two, eventually. *hehe*_


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